1
As Newton decreed,
there is both gain and loss in any exchange. This law is one of the
most basic tenants of physics and rules the world that man lives
within. In order to get what he wants, he must act a certain way, do
a certain thing and pay for that boon with his compliance. Chaos
ignores this rule. It delivers without request, takes without
exchange. One must understand that Chaos is always with us. She sits
next to you on the bus and she ignores you. The entire time you sit
beside her, lost in your thoughts, she waits. She bides her time for
an opening into your ordered little world to appear and when she sees
that door fly open, no doorman or army of angels can keep her at bay.
One must remember above all else this one thing. When the dust from
her wake settles...none of this was personal.
2
Kennedy stared at
the mess in his living room and raged. “They will never
understand.” he thought
He walked into the
boy's room and punched the light switch on. The boys shot awake like
a bolt.
“That living room
is a Goddamn disaster zone!” he screamed. “How many times do I
have to tell you to clean up after yourselves? He started to remove
his belt as the boys cried out in protest.
“Get your asses up
and get those hands on your beds!” he ordered. “NOW!”
The boys complied
and Kennedy slashed each of them five times across the backside,
counting each one aloud as if ticking down a New Years Eve
celebration. Once the rounds were complete, Kennedy marched the boys
into his living room and watched as two 14 year old boys tried to
figure out how to carry a single napkin between them to the kitchen
trashcan.
“That'll teach
them.” he smiled to himself as he re-thread his belt. He left the
boys to get ready for their school and went outside.
The streetlights
were still on as he walked to his truck. “sure is getting dark
early.” he thought.
“Caw! Caw! Caw!”
Kennedy spun and
looked up at the power lines above his house to see the crows.
Their attention was
not focused on him, however. The crows stared at the house Kennedy
had just exited. He turned back to the house and saw both of the
boys looking out the window at the birds. He flung his finger away
from the window and the obedient children shrank into the darkness of
the house. He turned back to his truck and noticed that the crows
gaze was now fixed on him.
“Get outta here
you filthy bastards!” he grabbed a rock from the flower bed and
flung it at the birds, causing them to scatter.
“Dumb-asses.” he
said as he drove away to work.
3
Walter reached for
the coffee. He kept it on the top shelf way in the back as a
courtesy to the doctor who had advised him to cut down on its
consumption. He prepared the drink to his preferred potency
(somewhere between battery acid and thick molasses) and walked
outside to collect the morning paper. Walter didn't have time for
the technological nonsense of smart phones and Internets. He
preferred the old fashioned way of things and saw nothing wrong with
reading words printed on paper after being typed by another person.
He sat in his chair
at the head of an empty table and opened his paper. This table had
seen hundreds and hundreds of breakfasts with his wife , children and
grandchildren, but these days, like Walter, it enjoyed the quiet
solitude of a single occupant.
He felt the first
shock as he opened to the Metro Section. He started to read an
article about the squandering of a bond program the public had voted
on twenty years ago when the second one hit him with a sledgehammer
in his right shoulder. He pulled the assaulted limb tight to his
chest as a bolt of pain shot deep into his chest. He fell to the
cold tile floor in a ball as his body quit on him. The last thing he
saw as the black tunnel closed around his eyes was the crow perched
outside the kitchen window that looked out onto the creek across the street. The tunnel stopped shrinking for a
moment as the two locked eyes. Walter knew, and the crow offered no
apology as the tunnel closed it's grip on him. Walter's body spasmed
one final time and then relaxed alone in a ball on the cold tile
floor.
4
Claire held her
morning jogs even dearer as Fall drew closer. The cooler
temperatures in the morning allowed her to open her run up a little
more than the oppressive Texas Summers would. This was her favorite
part of the day. She spent these precious minutes alone in her
thoughts as she wound her way up and down the streets of the
neighborhood. It allowed her to focus her energies on the tasks
ahead and start each day with a clean plate. This morning the creek
that formed the eastern border of her neighborhood has abandoned its
signature musty smell in favor of a translucent fog. Claire took
this change as an invitation to jog on the creek-side of the street.
She never wore headphones when she ran. She thought music was too
much of a distraction. This was why she heard it.
“Help.” The
voice was distinct yet weak cry rising up from the creek-bed some 20
feet below.
“Hello?” she
asked. She walked closer to the treeline that signaled the drop off
to the creek-bed.
“Help.” the
voice repeated.
Claire ignored all
caution and passed the treeline to peer into the creek-bed below.
The light from the streetlamp could not fully penetrate the dense
trees that fenced in the creek and the bed 20 feet below remained
shrouded in darkness.
“Are you there? I
can't see you.” she said. “Do you want me to call for help?”
There was no answer.
Claire felt the
shawl of dread wrap itself around her shoulders as she realized how
dark it was in the creek-bed. Some light from the streetlamp should
make it down here but it was as if something were intentionally
blocking even that. She looked back to the street and saw the
reassuring yellow glow of the streetlamp when she saw it.
Silhouetted against the light from the street were hundreds of crows
all staring back at her.
“Help.” said one of them.
“Help.” said one of them.
Claire remembered
something from her childhood. She was watching a TV show with her
father about crows. The narrator mentioned that some crows have the
ability to mimic human speech. She remembered how silly she thought
that sounded then. She laughed at herself for doubting that fact as
she felt the cold arms grab her and drag her down to the darn
creek-bed.
She never screamed.
5
The crow flew above
his car as he sped down the winding street. He was playing his music
way too loud for this time of the morning but he didn't care. He
needed it to pump him up for work and this was how it was done. He
took a sip of the coffee he had just bought but it was still way too
hot. He stopped at the intersection behind an SUV. The crow touched
down on a wire overhead, still watching. The driver of the SUV was
distracted and hadn't moved fast enough for him so he layed on his
horn. Again, he didn't care how early it was. He didn't care that
this was a residential neighborhood populated by older folks. He
only cared that this “Stupid Fucking Idiot!” was not paying the
proper amount of attention to her driverly duties this morning. She
finally stepped on the gas pedal and moved on allowing him to resume
his shortcut through the neighborhood. The crow took flight again,
maintaining its aerial shadow of the loud man in the expensive car.
He was changing the song on his iPod when he entered the School Zone.
He slowed down a bit but was still above the required 20 miles per
hour. He was selecting the next artist to play on his radio as he
approached the blind curve that preceded the school. The crow closed
the gap between them. His windows were open. His hand was still
filled with a cup of hot coffee. The crow flew into his car just as
he rounded the curve, still well above the speed limit. He spilled
the coffee in his lap and screamed out in a howl of pain as he jerked
the steering wheel and his leg spasmed onto the gas pedal, sending
his expensive car on a runaway course through the cross walk.
Marty held his neon
stop sign high as he stood in the middle of the street. He was
certain that the path was clear and motioned for the children to
begin making their way across when he saw the car making a beeline
towards him. He threw up his hand on reflex to stop the children as
the man's expensive car screamed around the corner and crushed him
into its hood and windshield. Marty tumbled over the car as the man
was finally able to apply the brake and a crowd of parents and
children ran to the spot the old man had fallen to. As his smashed
body lie dying in the middle of the street, Marty looked up one final
time and saw the crow. The bird on the wire above him looked into
his eyes and again, offered no apology as the spark of life whisped away from
the crossing guard.
6
“Now that I have
your attention...” Kennedy heard the disembodied voice say.
“What is
happening?” he screamed. The voice laughed.
“Are you sure you
ready for the answer to that question?” it asked.
Three minutes ago,
Kennedy had just returned home for the day. His job had taken its
usual toll on his patience and he could already taste the Jack
Daniels. He had barely shut the door to his truck when the first
crow slammed into him.
“OW!
Motherfucker!” It took him a half a second to recognize the black
bird as it flew away.
He was looking on
the ground for another rock to throw at the bird when the second bird
struck.
“Sonofabitch!”
he screamed. A third and then a forth crow crashed into him, their
beaks tearing at his clothes, their talons shredding his skin.
“What the Fuck?!?”
he demanded.
He spun to face the
direction the first crow had attacked from as another one pounded his
face, knocking his glasses to the ground. He retrieved them and
returned them to their perch atop his nose when he saw the cloud of
crows closing in on him. He had never seen this many of them at one
time. He broke into a dead run away from the sky-borne assault and
fled down the street. The crows tore after him as he ran, slamming
into him from one side and the other, herding him towards the creek
that made up the eastern border of his neighborhood. He reached the
treeline that marked the creek and tore a small branch to swat at the
swarming crows.
“We don't like
that much.” a voice from nowhere said.
“We like you even
less.” it added.
“Who said that?”
Kennedy blurted. His anger was catching up to his panic and he felt
the red blood beginning to boil up from its depths.
“What the fuck is there?” he demanded.
“What the fuck is there?” he demanded.
7
The crows ceased the
attack and began flying in a giant circle before Kennedy. It was a
black tornado composed of gleaming black feathers and razor sharp
claws.
“I have seen how
you treat the boys.” the voice stated.
“Yeah? So the
fuck what? What business is it of yours?”
“My business is my
business.” the voice answered. “My time is short here so I will
keep this brief. You have been bad.”
Kennedy gripped his
branch tighter. “What are you talking about?” he cried.
“Stop. Listen to
what I say. This is the important part. By what right do you abuse
those boys?”
“I'm their goddamn
father! I have to teach them discipline!”
Laughter exploded
from within the circling cloud of crows. “It has cost much for me
to be here today.”
The crows began to
circle faster and faster. “The old man, the jogger, the crossing
guard. Three innocent souls had to perish that we could have this
little chat.”
“What are you
talking about? Who ARE you?”
Crow after crow
began crashing into one another as the central mass of the circling
birds began to solidify. “You beat those boys every day of their
lives. Why?”
“They never
listened to me! They never do as they were told!” Kennedy
screamed.
“That is a lie.”
the voice laughed. “Trust me. I know.”
“It wasn't easy
for me to raise those two brats all by myself. I never even asked
for them to be born. I tried the best I could but it was hard
without their mother...”he trailed off.
“Right. She died
giving birth to them. The final necessary sacrifice”
“How do you know that?” the voice ignored the question.
“How do you know that?” the voice ignored the question.
“So you took your
abandonment. You took your anger and rage. You took all of that and
focused it upon two helpless creatures entrusted to your care.”
“They are MY boys!
I'll raise them however the Hell I want! I'm not going to bring two
spineless little whiny-ass pussies into a world already full of them!
I'm going to bring two ass-kicking Men into the world!”
“You are wrong.”
The swarm of crows sped up their pace and continued slamming and
crashing into each other.
“What the Hell do
you mean I'm wrong? Who the Hell are you to tell me how to raise my
boys?”
“Oh, you aren't
wrong in how you raised them. That was why you were chosen, after
all. You are wrong in thinking them to be your boys.”
Kennedy could see the shape of a torso begin to appear deep within
the circling cloud of birds.
“I don't
understand.” he said.
“That much is
obvious, but again that is why you were chosen.” The circling crows
continued to crash into one another and he could see the trunks of
legs begin to take form. “The cost was much higher then. Many
thousands of innocents had to die that September in fire and rubble
for me get access to her, to your Loretta.”
“You're crazy!”
“I've been called
worse.” a Cheshire grin said as it floated above a still-forming
body.
“All this time and
they ain't even mine?”
“Oh they are
yours...after a fashion.” the toothy grin said. “While it wasn't
your loins from which they sprung, those two little darlings are
every bit the men you raised them to be. Callous, coldhearted,
ruthless and angry...oh so angry. You are to be commended on the
fantastic job you have done.” Three crows slammed into the arms of
the creature in front of Kennedy forming hands that now applauded as
cold white eyes atop the evil smile cut deep into him.
Kennedy found the
power of speech had abandoned him. The bluster and bravado that was
his trademark had wilted like lettuce left on the counter for days.
“What are you?”
“Ah! No longer
who but What? There's my broken clock!” The crows kept adding mass to
the man-shaped shadow before him. Two slits of white resembling eyes
and the crack of jagged teeth that no sane man would mistake for a
smile stood within the still circling cyclone of crows. Kennedy
could see feathers, eyes, beaks and claws within the shape before him
shifting, squirming, writhing as if trying to free themselves from an
unholy form.
“Father?”
Kennedy spun on the spot to see the twins behind him. “Call for
help! GO! Get somebody! Anybody!” he screamed. “Move you little
bastards!”
“We weren't
talking to you.” they said in unison.
“Ah...my children.
Come to say goodbye to the babysitter?”
The boys nodded.
Kennedy lunged at them with his torn branch and felt a cold claw grip
his arm.
He turned back to
see that the shape had closed the 20 foot gap between them in the
blink of an eye.
“This is the part
where you say farewell, Kennedy.” the smile atop the shape said.
“But I believe these two rambunctious little scamps might want a
word with you before I take them home.”
“May we, Father?” they asked.
“May we, Father?” they asked.
“Oh why not. It
is a long trip and you're bound to get hungry along the way.”
The boys tore into
Kennedy like a pack of hungry dogs as they showed their true form to
the man who had beaten, berated and tormented them for fourteen long
years. It was not the tearing, the clawing or the gnawing that ended
Kennedy's life. It was the knowledge that he had been responsible
for unleashing these monsters upon the world that sealed his fate.
After all, they were
their father's children.
--end--